A Confessional

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What’s going on here?

You’re witnessing an experiment. For 6 months, week-by-week, you’ll be party to either the magnificence of healing or the train wreck of self-involved destruction. Could go either way. This is therapy. This is real. This is happening now.

Welcome to it

Welp, you got yourself here so don’t sit there and say what’s about to happen is in any way my fault. A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.

What you’re about to wade into is the thick, teeming mass of one mind. My mind. This is a balls-out record of my trip through my personal therapyscape over (what I anticipate to be) the next six months of 2017. That’s a guess but you gotta start somewhere, right?

Why should you care?

How should I know? I’m not doing this for you, am I? No. I am not. This is for me because I am sick AF of what I’ve got going on. When you get to know me better, you’ll see what I’m on about but for now, trust me, it’s time to call done on this status quo. Time to shake it up because I’ve gone and gotten way too comfortable with the entire half-time show of my demons.

And don’t be reading this and feeling all superior because at least you’re not spreading all your failings out there for just anyone to pick up. As if you don’t have your own overly familiar Babadook that you just invite all up in your business like it’s Thanksgiving Dinner. You eat too much, drink too much, smoke too much, fuck too much, something too much. Or maybe you don’t do anything at all, paralyzed by your inadequacies. Whatever your deal is, I see you. You have issues. I have issues. Maybe our issues can spoon. But, in case it needs saying again, this is not about you.

Why therapy?

Not really glad you asked but if I’m going to do this, I’ll do it correct. Basically, something happened to my awesome at an unknown point along the way and I’ve engaged a therapist to guide me in untangling this choking mess so I can get back to getting on with it. Anyone out there feel me?

Side note: Yes, I am aware the state of privilege I enjoy by A) having access to health care, B) being able to use that health care, and C) living where I can complain freely about my life not being amazing. If your comment finger is twitching because I enjoy what others may not and therefore have no right to complain, my guess is that you’re in similar circumstances and are righteously indignant largely on principle. Sorry ’bout it. If, however, you are living circumstances that are their own special hell, I say to you that whoever we are, wherever life finds us, it is each person’s right to feel however we do without judgement or comparison. We all love, hurt, hope, and grieve. We are all human together.

Why this?

This. What is this? Let’s agree to call it an experiment for now. It’s a live record, as it happens, of my crawling up out of this godforsaken rut. The plan is simple (not so much): I’ll post here after my weekly therapy sessions. You hit me back with your collective wisdom. That’s it. Hopefully there’ll be a happy ending. Take that however you want. I’ll spill all the T. You get to voyeur all you want.

Have you no shame?

No. Not really. And I think that’s a good thing, generally. But I’m also no fool. Haters, amirite? If I’m going to divulge — if I’m going to share my unfiltered experiences and thoughts with you in any real and honest way — I will damn well do so crouching behind some anonymity. I’m not trying to be that side friend who just has to see what’s making that inexplicable noise down in the basement. Heck ya, I’m afraid. And sure, someone, somewhere may feed themselves from destroying my bunker one day but, for you, for me, I choose to step into the abyss anyway. Please don’t make me regret it, k?

Who’s the therapist and who are you?

Wouldn’t you like to know. And I’d love to tell you but as I just said (where were you anyway?) in order for this to be as honest and unflinching as possible and in order for you to be able to step into my shoes and give up some useful advice, I’m witholding details. You’re just going to have to to imagine your own colors and textures and aromas as you walk with me.

So. I am anywhere in the world. I am of any gender or age or heritage or orientation or ability or economy. I am me and you all at the same time. Let’s meet at that point where all that matters is our sense of self, our need for community, and our sharing of this moment in the history of time. In this moment, we are the same even in our differences.

Got any ground rules?

Why yes, yes I do.

I will share my weekly therapy session with you in as much detail as I can recall but without boring the pants off of you.

Once the subsequent session has happened, no previous post shall be altered (without a really, really good reason anyway). Prepare for incoherence and unwitting lies.

I will give credit where due. As in, the Lessons From Therapy site icon is from http://icons8.com. If I am remiss, it’s probably because attribution was explicitly stated as not needed or just couldn’t be found during a reasonable search period.

I plan to unmask in time but in service to my personal boundaries and safety, as well as in order to freely give all I can, I remain in the shadows. And…

I will remember that somewhere out there, right now, there is you. You who hears your voice in my words. You who feel as I do but have no one to tell.

To you I say YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

This post is a snapshot in time. It reflects what I understand about myself and the world at this moment. It contains zero medical advice. To repeat, this entire experiment is one person’s interpretation of events and reflects my opinion only. Do your own research. Draw your own conclusions.